Fortune comes to those who wait and Bob was fortunate and delighted that his wait was rewarded with a TWA charter flight to his wintertime round of training rather than mundane commercial transportation. His Learjet ride landed in Jakarta and he rousted himself from his lethargic swoon in the luxury cabin.
His two naked air hostesses, were getting back into uniform; a mischievous euphemism for the still barely-there TWA charter costumes. The veteran of the busty comfort attendants was the commercial airline stewardess whom he remembered from his South African trek. Sylvie was performing one of her lucrative side gigs, and performing it quite well, in Bob's opinion. His repetitively satiated cock twitched in concurrence.
They helped him don his own traveling clothes, getting some final playtime with the now flaccid cock that they had repeatedly sapped of its milky treasure at 30,000 ft during the 10-hour journey. He strode weak-kneed and they were obliged to help him more, escorting him off the plane to hand him off to his female TWA ground handler outside of the customs portal.
"Uncle Bob? Hi... I'm Lala, your initial chaperon on this training exercise."
Lala was luxuriously beautiful, wearing heels and accessories that harmonized with the women's business suit that was barely holding itself together over her short buxom figure. Bob's exhausted cock twitched anew at the thought that she might be his weeklong hostess.
However, upon being briefed about his travel itinerary, he hid his disappointment as best as he could, when she politely informed him that she was not included in his prearranged package.
"You have been scheduled for our customary exotic treasure hunt."
She perceived her client's typical disenchantment and, as she had done with the others before him, attempted to pique his curiosity with a sassy alternate description.
"Or, you might say, an erotic cunt hunt."
The more appealing tagline did its work and she saw his mood brighten at the revised trope.
"So, let's get you started and on your way."
She led him through the official airport routines to emerge onto ground transportation at a GPS-equipped Jeep with several map locations already input. With the Jeep fueled and loaded for travel and Uncle Bob's heart and mind locked and loaded for the cunt hunt, he drove out into the highway traffic rushing towards the city.
Waving him goodbye, Lala watched with a bit of her own disenchantment as she launched Uncle Bob into the weeklong tropical adventure, sadly without her fellowship.
Maybe she would get her turn at the next training session with some subsequent TWA coach tutor trainees. Her country was a requisite training foray and the manly candidates were regularly routed through this island paradise. Uncle Bob looked like the kind of robust male that had, in the past, hunted her cunt during a sexy 'treasure hunt'. Her pussy had been one of the exotic prizes that was drilled by the hearty male's cock as she strove to reward herself with some pleasure from the male's carnal gallantry.
The GPS voice steered Bob to downtown Jakarta, to a less than high-class mixed urban neighborhood. Finally, he heard 'You've arrived!' and pulled to the curb. He was stopped before a non-descript doorway, lacking any signage other than the street address number. A few rough-looking lads loitered in the distance, down the street. He wisely took the keys with him when he alighted and rang the doorbell. The door bolt clunked open and the buzzing door popped ajar.
He cautiously entered through and was confronted by a swanky massage parlor vestibule, all red tones and velvet textures on the floor, walls, and furniture. A short stout woman approached and he was thereby greeted by the facility's matron.
"Ah, you must be Uncle Bob, our guest for tonight. I am Mrs. Leto, the housemother. We have been expecting you and all arrangements had been made for your stay with us."
She clapped her hands and a slim young lady in a long fitted dress appeared through the string-beaded doorway from a farther room.
"This is Misti and she will take care of your car and carry your things to your room."
He said she should hurry; the street toughs may have already ransacked the Jeep.
"Oh, don't worry about them. They're our security. A little quid pro quo with the neighborhood rowdies."
Uncle Bob handed over the keys and she bowed a 'thank you'. Mrs. Leto stepped towards a door at the rear of the entrance parlor. Bob followed along and she led him to a small room with a double-sized sunken bath and a low towel-draped table.
"I know it has been a long journey, especially with the rigors of the inflight hostess services that TWA so generously arranges. So, you are probably tired. Let us refresh your energies in our inimitable Oriental ways."
She clapped her hands again and a door opened; a bathrobe-clad masseuse entered and demurely bowed as she introduced herself.
"I am Liliana, at your service. Please let me help you relax after your stress-filled journey to our sensual sanctuary."
She bowed again and Bob tried to reflect her courtesy but a stitch crooked his back and he grimaced. Liliana rushed to hold her VIP customer steady and led him to sit on a stool. Mrs. Leto, observing that Liliana was capably in control, quietly departed, closing the door.
"Please, sir, may I help you undress? We should start with a hot bath to warm the tissues so I can deal with your muscle twinges."
Uncle Bob let the little maid do her duty and she carefully removed his travel duds. She held his arm strongly as he shuffled, his back still feeling the stress, into the warm bath water. Getting him settled, she doffed her robe, exposing her uniform of a sarong waist wrap. She joined him in the tub and positioned him reclining on the molded backrest.
She used sponges and cloths to wash away his sweat and grime, reaching across when needed, blithely rubbing her wet nubile nipples on his chest or arm. His prior deenergized cock rose to the occasion. She saw his excitement but merely washed his groin area before emerging from the water and holding a fluffy towel for him.
He stood carefully, feeling somewhat less strained, and gingerly tread up onto the floor. She wrapped his body with the white cotton, rubbing him dry. He saw her motion for him to lie face down on the massage table and took away his towel. Standing next to his exposed back, her nimble oiled hands rubbed and kneaded his tight thighs, sore back, and muscular shoulders. He felt his erection deflate under the somewhat achy deep muscle manipulations.
She asked him to roll over. He discovered that she had since lost the waist wrap, exposing her cute shaved pussy.
She continued with a frontal massage: thighs, chest, shoulders, neck, arms, avoiding his hips and man-zones. But she noted the further enlargement of his erection.
Her hands were slippery with the massage oils when she finally held and handled his cock. She employed slow even strokes with palm over top-outs on his knob, giving a running monologue of admiration.
"You are a very big man down here. I'll bet you have lots of women clamoring for a taste or poke of this monster. How can you find the time to satisfy all of them?"
Uncle Bob heard her praise and his cock swelled in her hands. She languidly worked his shaft and knob until she heard his breathing rise. She worked at a quicker pace, in time with his mounting gusts, that brought him to culmination. She cooed her delight and approval when he arced out vigorous shots of cum, a fountain of strong pulses with their plenteous volume that flooded across his belly. Her squeaky voice tickled his ego.
"Wow! That's a lot of sperm. But you should feel all better now: cleansed inside and out."
He lay in a mild stupor as she mopped up his discharge with warmed towels, hinting that she hoped to be more at his service soon again. She invited him to alight the table. He moved slowly, hesitant to hurt his sore back but, to his amazed delight, found the muscle stress had disappeared. He turned more confidently and jumped down to stand on his own. Liliana wrapped him in a terry cloth robe similar to her previous attire, of which she then pulled on her own again.
They strolled to the elevator and ascended to the penthouse floor. His top-floor accommodations had a splendid night view across the city of lighted avenues. He felt like a king surveying his kingdom.
She showed him around the rooms and when they returned to the main room, a lite dinner was waiting for them. They chatted idly as the evening ran on. She described her residence here in Indonesia and the TWA-sponsored spa, a lucky break in what might have been a hardscrabble existence in this densely populated corner of the world. The misogynist society dispensed a hard life to its female half; she was fortunate to have been recruited into the Total Woman Academy and its feminine enhancing program.